Always Our Brother
by whitetiger91
Summary: "Yes, you may be a… right old git, but you'll always be our brother." Ah, families can be sweet, can't they? For Marius Black, however, a smiling mother and excited siblings don't exactly spell great times ahead. A fluffy fic written for the QLFC, Season 4, Round 12.


**Always Our Brother**

 _ **A/N: This fic was written for the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition, Round 12. As Beater 1 for the Falmouth Falcons, I chose the main prompt: Write a fluffy story about the Black family. I picked this prompt because I absolutely adore the Blacks, but let me tell you, I struggled coming up with the idea behind 'fluff.' I'm more the angst type (as of a few rounds ago haha) and so I had to get into the mind frame of what exactly 'fluff' constitutes. According to the Urban Dictionary, fluff stories usually are humorous or romantic drivel without plots. Well, I love plots in stories... so, I went with the second definition, which according to the majority of fanfiction (and other) writers is anything cute/ heartwarming/ adorable. I have attempted to inject fluff into the beginning to meet the criteria (eg the funny, fluffy interactions with the family; eg bossy younger sister, mother being all fluffy and nice, siblings being typical children and running whilst the parents aren't present, him being suspicious), but the last scene is where more of the true happy feelings, cuteness comes out to meet the prompt ;) Considering that the character I write about was canonically kicked out of home because of his... situation... I have been told by a few QLFC members that the Blacks (well, being Blacks) have acted very fluffy throughout (save the father, but fluffiness, might I add, comes in all shapes and sizes; for example, if a certain person in my life simply showed up to something I was invited to, I'd cry with joy). I think I wasted more time on checking this than any other criteria, oops.**_

 _ **Please note, I am not explaining my struggle for purposes of scores and sympathy, but simply to show that all writers struggle, and I hope you appreciate how much energy went into making this as fluffy as possible. Consider Tiggs put down a peg or two for jumping in with her choice before considering all prompts haha. Next round (hopefully) you can expect more angst and drama and maybe even tragedy again ;) One more round before finals! Woo!**_

 _ **Optional prompts:**_

 _ **#1 (word) control**_

 _ **#3 (word) radiant**_

 _ **#10 (word) instinct**_

 _ **Word count: 2983 words (according to Gdocs—which it was typed on—and wordcounter).**_

 _ **Thanks to Arty, Ren and Mal for beta'ing :)**_

* * *

"Ouch! Watch it!"

Marius scowled as his older brother and sister pushed past him, forcing him to back up against the wall. They ignored him, laughing as they flew down the hallway trying to pass each other. It was only when they reached the dining room door that they stopped running, Cassiopeia glaring at Pollux for pushing her away from the brass door handle and turning it himself.

Marius knew this wasn't going to be a good day; his gut had told him not to bother getting out of bed, for something unpleasant was sure to happen. Pausing a moment before entering the dining room, he had a feeling that it had something to do with his siblings' unusual excitement.

"'Morning, Mother, Father," Marius said, taking his place at the dining table.

From across the table, his mother flashed him a radiant smile, showing off her straight white teeth. "Good morning, darling," she said before turning to his youngest sister, Dorea, who was on the verge of toppling down from her seat.

Marius frowned, the unpleasant feeling not leaving him. To anyone who might've been watching them, his mother's smile would seem perfectly normal. To Marius, however, her unusual affection was rather unsettling. His mother always behaved like all the other witches he knew: smiling only when trying to appease someone.

Yes, something was definitely up.

"Dookey, we're ready to begin breakfast," his mother called.

Sighing, Marius watched as their elderly house-elf entered the room, a silver tray piled with food in its little, wrinkly, green hand. Dookey began to walk around the table, heading for Marius' father. Holding the dish above its head, the elf waited for his father to put down his copy of the Daily Prophet and pick up the silver tongs to select what he wanted.

Marius stared at his father, focusing on the way the man's dark eyes went back to scanning the paper. He wasn't surprised that his father hadn't greeted him; in fact, he didn't really expect the man to ever acknowledge him again.

"No, no, serve Marius next," his mother said.

Marius' head snapped to his mother who was smiling at him, her plate now full. "Pardon?" he asked.

"Go on, dear, have your pick," she said.

"But, Mother, I'm always served next," Cassiopeia whined, glaring at him.

"I think we can let Marius choose first today, can't we?" his mother said, turning to Cassiopeia. Cassiopeia folded her arms and scowled, but didn't protest further.

"Okay…" Marius accepted the tongs from Dookey and selected a few slices of toast from the tray along with a few pieces of fruit. He could feel Cassiopeia's grey eyes boring into him, and although he was wary of his mother's sudden change in demeanour, he took pleasure in taking his time and making his sister wait.

"Anything good in the paper, dear?" his mother asked, directing the conversation to his father.

His father still didn't look up, eyes now on his plate. Well, at least _he_ was acting normal.

"Nothing much. Just the usual petty wish-wash spouted by Lorcan McLaird's old group. They just won't accept their recent defeat, continuing to try and convince us that Fawley is really just a Squ—"

"Ahem."

"—just incapable of doing his job," his father finished, narrowing his eyes at his wife's interruption.

His mother needn't have bothered interrupting, for Marius knew exactly what his father was going to say. His father detested Squibs, almost more than he detested Muggleborns and Muggles. To him, Squibs were unworthy of any second thought—even if they were kin.

Marius looked down at his plate, pushing a few strawberries around with his fork. He no longer felt hungry, and given the sudden silence in the room, neither did anyone else.

Clearing her throat, his mother changed the subject. "So, Cassiopeia, have you tried on your dress robes yet? I need to know if they fit or not; I have a feeling your Aunt Belvina will be hosting another ball for Horace's seventeenth birthday in December."

"Actually, Mother," Cassiopeia began, placing her fork on her plate. "I was thinking that I should get fitted for some new robes, in a different colour."

"Oh?"

"Yes, and since we are going to Diagon Alley today for our scho— Ouch! What was that for?"

Marius glanced up to see Cassiopeia simultaneously rubbing her leg and glaring at Pollux.

"You're not supposed to tell him where you're going; Mama said it would upset him!" Dorea chimed in, frowning at her sister.

His mother cleared her throat, crimson colouring her delicate cheeks. "Ahem, yes, we are going to Diagon Alley today to pick up a few things."

Ah, so that explained why everyone was acting weird. His mother was taking his older siblings to Diagon Alley, and since there was nothing there for a misfit eleven-year-old, he wasn't going with them. Of course, he had known the day was coming all along; how could he not? September 1st was only a few days away, and his mother would certainly not send his siblings off to school unprepared.

"Why don't you come with us, Marius?" his mother asked, the same, faltering smile back on her face.

Looking back to his plate, Marius began to push around the strawberries again. "N-no, I don't think so."

"Now, now, I'm sure we will have a wonderful time. I ordered a few supplies for you before your letter didn't—well before we knew you would be spending another wonderful year with us. Why don't you come with me and pick them up?"

Holding his fork still, Marius glared at his plate. He knew that his mother was trying to be polite, but did she honestly not realise that it was the last thing he wanted to do? Did she not understand that picking up supplies he would never be able to use was pointless?

"Oh yes, Mar, you should come with us. You can look at the new brooms on display; you'd have a jolly good time," Pollux said.

"No thank you."

"Tell you what, love, we could get you fitted for some new robes while we're there. What do you say?" his mother tried again.

Marius shook his head, trying to block out their ridiculous chatter. Really, there was no point in him going with them. At least they had finally stopped telling him that the owl with his Hogwarts acceptance letter had simply gotten lost, or that he was just a late bloomer and would be able to perform magic eventually. It had been all he had heard for the past month, with the exception of his father's snide comments.

"What about the owls? I know you love feeding our Barnabus, but maybe you'd like to see a few other breeds in the shop," Pollux said, waving his hands around in front of Marius' face to mimic an owl flying.

Marius pushed Pollux's hands away, scowling. He might've been a Squ—different, but he wasn't stupid enough to not know what an owl was.

"Oh yes, the owls are quite lovely, Marius," Cassiopeia agreed, and from the corner of his eye, Marius could see her rubbing her leg again.

Sighing, Marius turned his gaze back to his mother. She was still smiling at him, and after a quick glance at Dorea, she winked and said, "I may even purchase a few S-W-E-E-Ts for you if you'd like."

Dorea tilted her head, looking at their mother, her rosy lips repeating the letters. Marius ignored all of them, however, and clenched his fists over his fork and knife.

Really? His family thought sweets and overgrown pet birds would make a difference to his situation? That they would make him feel better or solve all his problems? No matter how much magic permeated the air, walking around a crowded place like Diagon Alley wouldn't suddenly make him a proper wizard. Couldn't they tell that, although they were trying to do the opposite, they were only making him feel worse?

His hands began to tremble as he gripped his cutlery tighter, his knuckles growing white as his control on his temper began to fade. Afraid that he would snap at them, he put down his fork and knife and pushed his chair away.

"Please excuse me, Mother, Father. I'm not hungry anymore," he said, standing up. Before anyone could stop him, he marched out of the room, fists jammed into the pockets of his robes.

He could hear his mother gasp, but it was soon silenced by his father saying, "Let the boy go; there's no point taking him."

* * *

 _Plonk. Plonk. Plonk._

He was getting better at it. Each time he threw the little blue ball at his bedroom wall, it would hit a similar spot, the _plonking_ sound becoming soothing to his ears. Perhaps if he continued practising, he could become a professional at ball-bouncing. Surely Muggles had some sort of job pertaining to it? If not, he would have to find something else, now that becoming a Potions Master was out of the question.

Either way, throwing the ball allowed Marius to forget that his family was out gallivanting about in their world of magic. It stopped him from wondering what sweets his brother would beg their mother to let him try, or what new books his sister would stock up on. Ever since her letter had come the year before, Cassiopeia wouldn't shut up about the subjects she planned on reading about.

Throwing the ball once more at the wall, he allowed it to spring back onto his bed, not bothering to catch it. Glancing at the clock on his bedside table, he saw that he had managed to make it to six o'clock without going insane. They would all be home soon—if they weren't already—talking and laughing about their wonderful day. They would talk about how Cassiopeia was glad she didn't have to go through the intimidating process of selecting a wand this year, or about how shiny Pollux's new cauldron was without any burn marks.

As if on cue, there was a knock on his door, and the handle began to turn. Rolling his eyes, Marius sat up on his bed and massaged his temple.

"Go away."

The door creaked open, and a young voice called, "Marius?"

Heaving another sigh, Marius saw that it was his little sister, not his mother, who had dared to enter his room. Dorea shuffled forward, her big blue eyes trained on him. She held a piece of folded parchment in her hands, splotches of ink staining the rough edges. Great. She probably had another drawing of some house-elf or dragon to show him, to which he would have to smile and pretend that it was the most artistic picture he had ever seen.

"I'm not really in the mood right now, Dory," he said, trying to keep his tone gentle.

"Are you still upset about being a squid?" she asked, moving further into the room to stand in front of him, her head tilted.

"A what?"

"A squid. I heard Mama telling Pa that you didn't like being a squid and that it wasn't nice of Pa to call you one."

"Oh. You mean I'm a Squib," he corrected.

Dorea stared at him for a moment, her eyes trailing from his dark hair to his eyes and all the way down to his bare feet. Her gaze remained on his toes the longest before she looked back into his eyes and smiled. "You don't look like one. Where's your tentacles?"

Despite himself, Marius found a small chuckle escaping his lips. He missed being five years old when the world seemed so straightforward and safe. Perhaps if he was still five, he could pretend that he still had a hope of going to Hogwarts, of everything being alright.

"I don't have tentacles, Dory, just normal hands and feet."

"Oh, that's okay, too… I guess. Mama said it just means you get to stay home with me and play more games. I'll have to tell her you're not a squid, though. She said she and Pa will love you if you were, and because they do, I do, too," Dorea said, nodding her head vigorously and causing her two little blonde braids to flop back and forth.

Brushing them out of her face, she dropped the piece of parchment she was holding onto Marius' lap.

Taking a deep breath, Marius picked it up and began to unfold it. If his sister was willing to stick around with him, and even dare to love him, then the least he could do was look at her drawing.

Instead of a picture, however, he found what looked to be large, messy writing trailing down the page at an angle. On top of the page, Dorea had drawn what he thought were maybe two dogs or two cats, a squiggle, and an 'M' surrounding an 'H' in a large green square. Narrowing his eyes, he tried to make out what she had written:

 _'To Marrus_

 _Wee R please to tell you that_

 _you R goin to HogWarts!_

 _Bring yor pet oWl Barn buss to sKool. and parK a ment._

 _and KWills._

 _love DOREA'_

"What is this?" he asked, having no trouble making out his sister's name at the end, which covered most of the page in large, pink writing.

Giggling, his sister grabbed his hand and began to drag him towards the door. Marius went to grab onto his bedpost to stop her, but his instinct—the very same instinct that had told him to stay in bed that morning—now encouraged him to let her guide him out of his room. He dropped the letter onto his bed and allowed Dorea to pull him down the hallway and staircase, hoping it wouldn't lead him to further misery.

Dorea marched through the house, the grip on his wrist surprisingly tight. Every now and again, as they passed different rooms, she would let out a giggle before turning back to him, and in her most bossy voice, shout, "Come on, slowcoach!"

Finally, dragging him down one last set of stairs, her giggles still echoing around the house, Dorea slowed down. Clearing her throat, she knocked on the door in front of them and yelled, "We're here!"

Marius groaned as she pushed open the door, her left hand still gripping his. "Dory, we've passed the dining room several times now. Why didn't we just go in there in the first place?"

Dorea turned to him and pressed a finger to her lips. "Shhhh. Time to go in," she said, stepping inside.

Following her, Marius only walked so far into the room before he jerked to a stop, his jaw dropping. Instead of seeing the customary mahogany table and chandelier that dominated the room, several little tables were set up along the walls. A few had textbooks on them, some held an array of food, and one, Marius could see, held a brass cauldron that was bubbling away.

What drew his attention, however, was the small group of people standing in the centre of the room. Pollux and Cassiopeia stood side by side, identical grins on their faces. Behind them, his mother was also smiling, her blue eyes dancing in the light of the candles floating above them. Standing off to the side, his eyes glancing down to the golden pocket watch in his hand, was his father.

"W-what's all this?" Marius asked, looking around.

"Well, we know you've been a bit down, chap, about not going to Hogwarts and all, so we thought we'd share a bit of the magic with you," Pollux said, pointing up to the ceiling.

Marius looked up past the candles, seeing that someone had charmed the ceiling to look like the night sky. Millions of tiny silver specks twinkled back at him, no clouds covering their beauty. Looking back to his family, he found a smile of his own spreading across his face.

"Here, Dorea," Cassiopeia said, walking forward and draping a sign around Dorea's neck. Marius didn't have time to look at what it was as Cassiopeia turned to him and added, "Yes, you may be a right old git, but you'll always be our brother."

A lump rose in Marius' throat, and his eyes began to sting with tears. Wiping them, he turned to his parents. His mother, too, had tears in her eyes, the smile on her face more radiant and genuine than he had ever seen. His father looked just as stoic and placed the watch back into his pocket, giving Marius a quick nod.

Warmth washed through Marius' body, and his smile grew. His father could've been at work, yet instead, here he was, no disapproving glare on his face.

"Well, off you go! Go enjoy yourself!" his mother said, laughing as Pollux and Cassiopeia pushed each other and ran to the table covered with sweets and pastries.

Feeling a sharp tug on his arm, Marius looked down. "Ouch! Not so tight, Dory," he said, unable to stop himself from grinning at her.

Dorea puffed out her chest and pointed to the red and gold sign around her neck. "C'mon, hurry up. I'm the Hogwarts Espress and you're late!" she said, pulling on his arm.

Marius allowed her to drag him over to one of the tables, seeing that it had been set up with the first year Charms books his mother had pre-ordered for him. A fine, emerald-coloured quill sat next to it, along with a fresh roll of parchment embossed with the Slytherin crest.

" _Choo! Choo!_ All aboard!" Dorea said, pushing him into a chair. "Now you can send pictures to Cass and Poll when they go!"

Marius smiled and squeezed Dorea's hand.

Maybe he did have to miss out on Hogwarts, and maybe he was a Squib, but maybe, just maybe, it wouldn't be so bad after all.

* * *

 _ **Additional, boring A/N:**_

 _ **I have been a bit frazzled this round as not only do I want the Falcons to come back from our recent loss, but my internet server has been playing up. Yay for the heart pounding 'will I get this posted on time?' -.-**_

 _ **Anyway, despite poor internet connection, I did manage to pull my resources to do a bit of research into the Black family, as well as a few other bits and pieces of research. Fun fact: Lorcan McLaird was the Minister for Magic from 1923–1925 before Hector Fawley (1925–1939), and as this fic is set around 1926, I thought I'd mention it here to make a bit more sense of Cygnus Black's paper mutterings.**_

 _ **All capitals like 'Squib' have been taken from Potterwords website. There was a bit of conflict also on the 'an M and a M' part, so I went with what most websites did ('an' because of the phonetics). There 'where's' instead of 'where're' in Dorea's dialogue is also on purpose, because not only did Grammarly flag it, a child wouldn't care about correctness :p**_

 _ **According to Potter wiki, Cygnus II and Violetta Bulstrode had four children: Pollux (1912), Cassiopeia (1915), Marius (1915-1920), and Dorea (1920), the latter of whom was originally thought to be James Potter's mother. I played around with their ages in this fic, to both give Dorea her innocent child-like state (based on my own little sister, Sal from The Tribe: The New Tomorrow, and a mixture of children I've taught that age XD) and to connect to Marius being eleven (or almost). The 's' in Hogwarts Express is also intentional; she doesn't have a speech problem, but I tried (and might've failed) to capture a kid's speech...**_

 _ **In my fics, I hope to explain, or at least give a different view, of the stories of people that aren't Harry Potter-involved. According to the wiki (yes, I can hear my teachers sighing at the mention of wiki as a research source, sorry!), Marius Black was disowned by his family for being a Squib. However, it is not specified by whom or when exactly this happened. My theory? Well, the theory besides the idea that being a Squib stems from years of Pureblood inbreeding, sort of like genetic diseases like some cases of haemophilia? It was his father who kicked him out, not until the age of maybe sixteen or seventeen, after succumbing to pressure and opinions from colleagues and the wider Black family about the value of Squibs... It makes sense, right? Right?**_

 _ **The title is also inspired from my fic from last season, 'Always Our Lucy.' Yes, it was also about Squibs, but very different haha (Lucy got a much happier ending). Ok, enough from me. I hope you enjoyed this story nonetheless, and the magic of Hogwarts and the Potter universe is with you :) Xx**_


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